


A Second Chance

by ahlewis32



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/M, Minor Violence, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-12
Updated: 2012-03-12
Packaged: 2017-11-01 21:08:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/361274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahlewis32/pseuds/ahlewis32
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four years after Alistair's Warden lover dies killing the Archdemon, he still mourns her,  prompting Arl Eamon to take drastic measures to insure the line of succession and in the end, Alistair's happiness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

****Redcliffe Castle

Teagan Guerrin paced the hallway outside his brother’s study. He had been summoned from Rainesfere for a meeting, the note said. He hoped it was damned important to drag him all the way to Redcliffe in the middle of the night. Now that he was here, he found himself waiting in line for an audience. What was Eamon up to?

The sound of the door opening snapped him to attention. Eamon opened the door, letting out an unknown man, a messenger from the looks. He nodded to the man as he passed. “Teagan!” greeted Eaman, “Thank you for coming on such short notice, but I fear this is something that cannot wait. Come in.” He gestured for him to follow.

Eamon closed the door behind him and shot the bolt, a necessary precaution when one was the second most powerful man in Ferelden. He turned around to face his brother. “I am sorry to drag you away from home in such a way; I know you are needed there. How is Mairi?”

“Well enough, nearing her time very soon, though. A girl this time, we hope. She sends her love to you and Isolde. How is Connor doing?” Teagan asked.

“Very well, he is progressing far in his studies at the Tower. Isolde and I are both pleased.”

“Excellent news.” He walked to the side table and poured a brandy for himself. “So tell me, brother, what is it that makes you call me out of a warm bed in the middle of the night?” he asked.

“Alistair,” was the one word reply.

“What’s he done now?” inquired Teagan, laughing.

Eamon’s normally impassive face gave away his concern for the man he considered a son. “He has done nothing, and that is the problem,” he explained. “Eighteen months ago he agreed that it was time he marry and give the country an heir. Since that time, he has refused all suits, refused to meet any of the candidates, and refuses to discuss the subject with me or anyone else. Ferelden must have a stable line, and with no living blood relations, that is looking less and less possible.”

“So why bring this to me, I’m not involved with the government. Alistair refuses to speak to me about it either. You know what the problem is,” said Teagan.

Eamon nodded his agreement, “It has been four years since Maia’s death; he has had more than enough time to recover and mourn her, yet he seems not to be able to.”

“She was very special, and not just to Alistair,” Teagan explained.

“I sometimes find myself missing her counsel,” Eamon added, “But he must realize that the time to mourn is over. She would not want him to set aside all others for her. She told me that herself.”

“It was not an ordinary relationship, brother.”

“No it wasn’t,” said Eamon, “It is time he found another just as extraordinary and I believe I have found her.”

“And who is this lucky lady?” asked a curious Teagan.

Eamon looked at his brother, humor in his eyes, “Lady Morwen Cousland.”

‘What?” Teagan exclaimed. “Morwen Cousland? The girl who spend two years living in the woods with a band of thieves and murderers? She’s unmarriageable. You haven’t negotiated the contract already, have you?”

“The contract is set and the marriage will take place. As regent I can do this. Alistair will marry her within the year.”

Teagan shook his head, “He will never agree.”

“He has no choice. The deal is struck and you will be the one to tell him,” he said.

“Me? Why do I have to tell him? It’s your doing.”

“What better person to tell him than his favorite uncle,” said Eamon, smiling.

‘”Not for long,” exclaimed Teagan, disgusted.

 

**Denerim Palace**

“You have got to be kidding!” Alistair yelled.

“It is done, your majesty. You cannot change it any more than I can,” said Teagan.

Alistair had started pacing, something he only did when he was nervous or angry, both conditions threatening to overpower him at the moment. He stopped and looked at his uncle, “What are the terms?” he asked.

Teagan was surprised at the question, was he actually considering it? “You marry the Lady Morwen within the year; she comes with a large landholding, shipping interests and an additional title for you.”

‘I don’t need any more titles, and I know nothing about farming and shipping. Tell me about her.”

Teagan hesitated before speaking. How do you tell a man that the woman he will marry would rather be out hunting a stag than staying at home giving him an heir? “She is an outdoorsy type, enjoying hunting and other outside pursuits.”

Alistair was not impressed, “Uh huh,” he replied. “What does she look like?”

“She is a Cousland, your majesty. Dark haired with blue eyes, most likely. As were her parents.”

“You are evading the question.”

Teagan knew it was time to be honest. “I have never actually seen the lady, sire. I am told by those who have that she is a spirited and pleasant looking girl of about twenty four.”

Alistair laughed at his honesty, “Who just happened to live in the woods for two years, fighting a covert war against the Howes. Who is a trained assassin, expert bowman and hasn’t worn a dress in six years. You aren’t the only one who has information, Teagan. Shall I tell you something about yourself next?”

Teagan shifted uncomfortably and continued, “As you say, your majesty, no I would not.” He fished for the right words to convince him, “Please, sire, just go meet her. If you don’t like her, then I’ll find a way out for you.”

“Was the Lady Mairi thus when you met her?” Alistair asked.

“Worse,” his uncle replied. “And I have never been happier.”

Alistair thought about Teagan’s answer. It was true; he had never seen the man happier. He looked out the window at the city, deep in thought, perhaps it was time.“Very well, tell the Teyrn I am coming to meet his sister. Arrange it.”

Teagan smiled and nodded, “As you wish, your majesty,” and turned to make the arrangements.

**Highever Castle**

“NO!” she hollered. “I will not do it!”

Fergus was unimpressed with his sister’s stubbornness. “You will do it, or I will lock you in your room until he gets here.”

‘You have done some rotten things, Fergus Cousland, but this is the worst! I will not be put on display like a prize pig at the fair!”

“Morwen, you must see reason. This is your last chance. It’s the king for the Maker’s sake!”

She was unconvinced, “If you are so eager to marry me off, then why didn’t you accept Rory’s suit? He couldn’t have been worse than this.”

“Rory is the son of a minor bann, this is the king of Ferelden,” he said, “Father said no to Rory years ago and I will not go against his wishes.”

Morwen grew silent at his statement. Her father had said no when Rory had asked for her hand when she was eighteen, then she had been sent to the estate in Denerim. They had not seen each other for over a year after that. By then he had found someone else. Quietly she asked, “You have set the terms?”

“You marry the man within the year, he gets title to your dower lands, and will be Bann of White Oaks. It is a modest settlement. He could have asked for half of Highever. He will be here within the week to meet you. He is a hero of the Blight, Wenna, a warrior, a scholar, a Grey Warden, and a good man.”

Morwen walked to the window and looked out at the sea below, her face nearly betraying her disappointment. She was stuck, and he knew it. “Very well, it seems you have me. I will meet the King.”

 

**On the Road to Highever**

Alistair wondered if anything else could go wrong on this stupid trip. 

He had chosen to travel light in order to get it over with faster. He took four of the younger, less experienced knights with him and had decided to travel incognito. He was carrying nothing on him that could identify him as the king. 

Now he found himself staring down five bandits in the middle of the night, wearing nothing but his small clothes. No, it was just about as bad as it could get, or so he thought.

His knights had all been dispatched quickly and he was alone. He dug in and took the first bandit that attacked him, parrying the man’s thrusts easily, knocking him back. The second moved in to attack in the first’s place, and Alistair bashed him to the ground to be faced with a third bandit. He had no idea he was being watched.

They had come across the campsite completely by accident. The stag had crossed nearby and they had been hot on its trail when they had seen the fire. Laban had wanted to keep on the deer but Salus had mentioned that no one should have been in the area except them as they were still on the Teyrn’s land. Morwen sent Laban and Salus on after the stag while she and Rory checked out the camp.

She was not prepared for what she was witnessing. A lone warrior, dressed in nothing except his small clothes, successfully holding off five attackers. Rory laughed quietly at the comical sight. “Shall we help?” he asked.

Morwen had noticed that the man was beginning to tire. There was no way of knowing how long he had been fighting the bandits. She pulled her hood up over her head and pulled out her bow. “I’ll do it,” she said, and disappeared into the forest.

Alistair continued to fight off the men’s attacks, one by one. As he was interrupting the latest attempt by bandit number four, the man suddenly dropped dead to the ground, an arrow sticking out of his throat. He had no time to look around for his benefactor as number five was on him quickly and just as quickly dropping from an arrow wound to the chest. Alistair was able to parry and thrust at number one, killing him quickly to find number two on the ground with an arrow to the back. Number three, sensing he was outmanned and out-gunned, turned to run, only to hit the ground, with an arrow through the eye.

He looked around for any sign of who had helped him when a man emerged from the woods to his left and cautiously walked up to him, hands held out in a peaceful gesture. “Greetings, my friend. Seems you have had a bit of bad luck tonight.”

Alistair laughed at that, “It seems I have, friend. Fighting in my small clothes was not on my agenda for a good night’s sleep,” he replied. “Glad you were here. Thanks.”

Rory smiled, “Don’t thank me.”

Alistair was confused, ‘Then who do I thank?” he asked.

“Me,” was answer. He turned to see a lone bowman walk out of the forest towards them. He removed his hood to reveal the most beautiful girl Alistair had ever seen. Her dark hair was pulled back in a bun and shown with red highlights in the firelight. Her blue-green eyes sparkled as she considered him.

Alistair was speechless when he noticed she had begun to blush a little and he realized the state he was in. He quickly covered himself with his shield. “Uh…sorry. Thank you for your help.”

Morwen suppressed at smile at this man who fought so well and got embarrassed so easily. A Templar?‘You’re welcome,” she said. “What are you doing out here?”

Alistair had to think fast. He couldn’t tell them who he was for his own protection and possibly that of Ferelden. “I have messages for the Teyrn from the king,” he lied.

Rory looked at Morwen, then asked, “What is your name?”

“If I might know yours also,” he answered.

“I am Rory and that is Wenna, and you are?” he inquired.

Alistair thought fast again. Stick as close to the truth as possible, he thought. “My name is Ser Alain of Redcliffe, in service to his majesty, King Alistair.” He bowed, causing them to smile. “You wouldn’t by any chance be headed to Highever?”

Morwen was not, in fact, headed to Highever but away from there having crawled out the window and climbed down the wall of the castle to avoid meeting the king. Thankfully, Rory spoke up instead. “We hadn’t planned on it right away, but perhaps in a few days we would be headed that way. You are welcome to accompany us until that time, provided you are able.”

Alistair considered his possibilities, he could stay here and go on to Highever by himself and get killed by the next group of bandits or he could follow these good people wherever they were headed and get to his destination a few days late. Considering he really didn’t want to go to Highever anyway, any delay was welcome. 

“I’ll go with you,” he said.

Morwen was skeptical but bowed to Rory’s judgment, “Pack light, we travel fast,” she told him, looking him up and down, “Clothes are recommended.”

Alistair blushed at the mention of his current state of apparel. “Right,” he said and put his armor on quickly, packing all the food he could carry and his travel kit. “What about my men?” he asked.

Rory spoke up, “Laban and Salus will take care of them. They will bring us their possessions later.”

“Very well,” said Alistair, “I’m ready.”

“Let’s go,” said Wenna, and they moved out, Alistair following.

 

**On the Coast Near Highever**

They moved fast that night towards the coast. Just before dawn they arrived and concealed themselves in a thicket at the top of a cliff that overlooked a small inlet. Rory explained they were here to meet a ship and that he had time to rest if he wished. He didn’t seem anxious to give out any more information so Alistair took advantage of the wait and took a nap.

He was awakened about an hour later by Laban. “Can you use those?” he asked, pointing to Alistair’s sword and shield, “Get ready and head down the path to the beach.” He pointed off to his left; Alistair nodded and picked up his weapons to follow.

He came down the path to find Rory, Laban and Salus waiting for him. Rory pointed to where a ship had come in to anchor at the inlet. Several men had rowed ashore and were meeting others. “Slavers,” he whispered, “We will be rushing them when we get the signal. You and Laban go right; Salus and I will be left.”

“What about Wenna?” asked Alistair.

“She’ll be here,” replied Rory. 

They waited about ten more minutes then Rory gave the signal, “No survivors,” Laban told him. Alistair had no problems with that. 

Slowly they headed down the path then split into their groups to strike. The enemy looked to be about a dozen strong, “Darkspawn strength,” thought Alistair, smiling to himself. He wondered what the signal was and didn’t have to wait long.

The slavers had finished their negotiations and were preparing their cargo for travel when the leader suddenly dropped with an arrow to the neck. Rory screamed a battle cry and rushed in, Alistair followed Laban on their side. Each time he swung his sword, the enemy would have an arrow or two in them first. It was short work. 

Rory drew his dagger and he and Laban walked through the dead, looking for survivors, dispatching any who were still alive. Alistair turned to look behind him and discovered a hidden cave set back in the rock. He slowly walked towards it, listening with his Warden sense. Rory watched him and came up behind him asking quietly, “What is it?”

Alistair pointed to the cave opening. “There,” he whispered, “We aren’t alone yet.”

Rory signaled the others to join them and the four of them slowly entered the cave. None of them were prepared for what they found.

The slavers had built cages for the slaves they wished to sell. There were at least a hundred people crowded into a makeshift jail, waiting their turn for sale. Most were elves but there were humans mixed in, men, women, and children. Alistair was furious that his people could be treated this way.

He went to the first cage door and smashed the lock with his sword, going from cage to cage, opening them as he went. Rory followed him down the other side of the row, smashing locks as he went. Laban and Salus led the people outside.

Wenna had come down from her perch at the top of the hill and watched Alistair has he went from person to person, checking on their welfare and making notes of injuries, who they were, where they came from and anything else that might mean something. She followed him down the rows, providing water where it was needed and comfort as well, all the while watching Alistair. He was not an ordinary knight, she thought, but who was he?

When he had talked to each one, he rolled the notes up and put them in his pack, “For the king,” he said. Then he joined the other men as they cleaned up the beach and burned the bodies of the slavers. Wenna followed, shooting flaming arrows at the ship until it was in flames.

When the boat had burned enough for them to be sure it was a loss. Laban and Salus set fire to the slaver’s cave while Rory, Wenna and Alistair prepared the people for travel. 

“Where can we take them?” asked Alistair, “There are so many.”

Wenna turned to him and smiled, “Home,” she said and got them going. Alistair picked up his pack and followed her, wondering where home was.

 

**Highever Castle**

Later that afternoon they arrived “home.” Perched on top of the tallest cliff for miles, Highever Castle was home to Teyrn Fergus Cousland and had been home to the Cousland family for generations. Alistair was more than surprised to find it was their destination. 

He helped the former slaves as they entered the bailey, then hung back and waited to see what would happen next. Rory and Wenna walked up the steps to the main doors only to have them swing open violently. They both jumped back just in time to keep from being hit.

“Morwen Eleanor Cousland! I’ll have your head this time!” yelled Fergus. “You have had me out looking for you for three days and now you show up with a small village of people and expect me to do what with them?”

Alistair was completely floored by what he had heard. The girl Wenna was the Lady Morwen, his betrothed. Unbelievable, he thought, smiling.

Wenna was unshaken by her brother’s bellow. She stood toe to toe with him and explained. “I’ve been out doing your work, thank you. These good people would be on a ship bound for Tevinter as slaves if I hadn’t dispatched the slavers and set them free. I thought this was something a Teyrn should be concerned with, don’t you, brother?”

“If it was that important to you, then why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, “I would have sent men to take care of the business without risking my sister doing so. At least you had the good sense to take Rory with you.”

“Leave me out of this please,” said Rory, laughing.

“They were slaves, Fergus. I had to and you would have too,” she pleaded.

Fergus went silent. She was right, he would have. He turned to his seneschal who was standing to his right, “Mathis, see that these people are fed and given lodging. Find out their names and where they are from so we can return them to their homes if possible.” 

“Yes, your lordship,” he replied.

Fergus turned to his sister, “You and I are not finished here. Get upstairs and clean up. Guards! Escort the Lady Morwen to her bedchamber; have a servant sent to tend to her needs.”

“Fergus! How dare you set guards on me! So help me….” she hollered as she was taken away, leaving Fergus smiling after her.

Rory laughed at her predicament, earning a slot as next in line for Fergus’ ire. “You were supposed to watch her. Why is she out killing slavers instead of here waiting to meet her future husband?”

“I was watching her, and she was never in any direct danger,” Rory explained.

Fergus was unimpressed by the man’s admission. “What else is she not telling me?”

“We came upon a campsite at the eastern edge that had been attacked by bandits. There was one survivor, a messenger from King Alistair,” reported Rory.

Rory looked around the bailey, trying to locate Alistair who had made himself busy adjusting his shield buckler. He looked up and caught Fergus’ eye, putting his finger to his lips and shaking his head. Fergus suddenly became very pale and nodded at Alistair slightly before turning to Rory. “Well, wherever he is, have the man brought to me immediately.” With that, he turned and entered the house. 

Alistair smiled as he slung his shield onto his back. The ruse was still working, and he wanted it to last. The Lady Morwen was worth that at least. He headed to the doors to talk to Rory.

*****

Rory escorted him to the Teyrn’s study, and then instructed him to wait outside while he announced him. Alistair smoothed his hair and brushed off his armor in an attempt to dissuade any unwanted attention. He was king and as such might still be recognized by anyone. 

The door opened a few minutes later and Rory bade him enter. Teyrn Fergus was sitting at a desk, scribbling on a scroll. Rory motioned Alistair to move forward, and Alistair saluted him as was his due. Fergus laid his pen down and looked up at him, then at Rory, “That will be all, Ser Roland,” he ordered. Rory saluted and left the room.

Fergus hung his head until it hit the desktop, groaning his discomfort. Alistair laughed at his distress. “You have a most interesting family, your lordship,” he remarked, smiling broadly.

Fergus raised his head and looked at his king, “You have no idea, your majesty,” and smiled. “I suppose I should ask why the king of Ferelden is traipsing about the countryside with my sister, while masquerading as a minor knight.”

Alistair laughed again, “Well, it is a long and interesting tale, and not without elements that would be embarrassing to your king. Suffice to say, I seem to owe my life to your sister.”

Now it was Fergus’ turn to laugh, “You and most of Highever, it seems, including me. Why the ruse?”

“Eamon instructed me from day one that I should always be aware of my security. There are many who wish me gone and I have the scars to prove it. It seemed an easy way to get what I wanted and have some fun in the process.”

“At my sister’s expense, sire.”

“Perhaps, but it was well worth it, I assure you. Better I meet her as Ser Alain than as King Alistair.” He walked to the window, looking out over the sea, then turned and looked at the Teyrn, “I should like your permission to court her.”

Fergus’ behind hit the chair with a thud, “You want to court her?” he asked, stunned.

Alistair smiled, “Yes, I do. She’s marvelous.”

“Well. I’ll be damned,” exclaimed Fergus. “You’re serious.”

“I am serious,” he said, “But there are conditions.”

Fergus rose and walked to the side board table and poured two glasses of ale, offering one to Alistair, “What conditions?”

“First, I need free reign of the castle while I am here. Second, the lady is also to have free reign. Third, under no circumstances can anyone but you know who I am. I need time to get to know her and for her to get to know me,” he declared.

“But won’t she be getting to know Ser Alain, not King Alistair?”

“They are one and the same. I wasn’t always king.”

“She will not appreciate the subterfuge, sire. And, it won’t be easy to maintain, she is wily,” reminded Fergus.

Another broad smile spread across Alistair’s face, “She is well worth the effort, your lordship.”

“Very well, sire, I’ll see that the conditions are met. Perhaps you could help her with the dispersal of the people she brought in today. That should keep you busy. Are you into hunting, by chance?” asked Fergus.

“I have been from time to time,” replied Alistair.

“That is a good way to start with her; it’s one of her passions.”

Alistair took a long drink, contemplating his near future, “Indeed, it seems to have become one of mine recently.” He raised his glass in salute, “To the Lady Morwen,” he said.

“To good fortune, your majesty,” Fergus replied, “You’re going to need it,” and he drank.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four years after Alistair's Warden lover dies killing the Archdemon, he still mourns her, prompting Arl Eamon to take drastic measures to insure the line of succession and in the end, Alistair's happiness.

*****

Morwen paced her room anxiously. “He means business this time,” she thought. She stopped in front of the window and looked out over the bailey to the village beyond. Her life had been so easy until that night six years before when Rendon Howe had taken the lives of her parents, sister-in-law and nephew and had then come after her. She had escaped through the larder passage with Rory into the night, leaving the castle behind. 

She and Rory had thought to make it to Ostagar and the safety of Fergus’ army but Howe’s troops were too numerous. Instead they had taken shelter in a cave system that ran through the cliffs, meeting up with other survivors and banding together for safety. Most were villagers, some thieves and criminals. All were desperate and needing leadership. She gave them that and they gave her their loyalty and she and Rory had become lovers. Together they had mounted a campaign of terror against the Howe occupiers, attempting to weaken them into submission. 

They had kept up their efforts for nearly two years when word reached them of the death of Arl Howe at the hands of the Hero of Ferelden, who was herself killed defeating the Archdemon and ending the Blight. Morwen and her companions had emerged from their hiding place to find many people dead and the castle in shambles but they had immediately began to rebuild their home in preparation for the return of their Teyrn.

Morwen paced in front of the window, hugging herself, trying to figure out what went wrong. She had thought herself happy once, leading her band of outlaws, fighting for justice. Rory had always been there, patient and kind, loving her without question. She had been drawn to him out of need, she knew that now. They had parted as lovers when Fergus had returned and he had never asked what had passed between them. They remained close and Fergus had charged him with her safety on her adventures.

But this Ser Alain, there was a man, she thought. He was handsome, well made and seasoned just right. He’d spent time in the lists. The scene of him fighting in his small clothes wouldn’t leave her. He was definitely a well-made man.He was also smart, kind, and quick witted. He had not complained when he was forced to march across the countryside in the middle of the night on little sleep and had pitched in and helped as they defeated the slavers. Indeed, his interest had gone beyond that as he took notes and wrote descriptions for the king. He had vowed that the injustice of these people would be known and future injustices stopped. She admired his determination. 

Fergus had never questioned what his sister had done during those two years. She had adapted to the conditions and preformed her duty with honor and bravery. He did question her unswaying desire to remain the rebel even when the cause was won. Their parents would desire her happiness and he had done everything in his power to see she was happy, but there was a question of duty also. She needed to marry an acceptable man; one who would care for her and make her happy while securing a lasting alliance. The country depended on it. He believed King Alistair was such a man. 

A knock sounded at her door and it slowly opened to reveal Fergus, who held up his hands in a show of peace. Morwen continued to stare out the window, sadly. He walked slowly over to stand next to her. She turned slightly and rested her head on his shoulder;he put his arm around her and squeezed as her tears fell. They were all they had now. Oriana and Oren were gone, as were their parents; they couldn’t afford to lose each other too. 

“What do you want me to do?” she asked, quietly.

“The king sent a message to say he would be delayed for a while and would let us know when he would be able to present himself. Take care of those people you brought home first. See them home or settled, however you can; I trust your judgment. Ser Alain will be remaining here while I finish a task for the king.”

Morwen’s eyes grew wide at that, “I would have thought he would return to Denerim,” she said.

“He has been ordered to wait until I am ready to send the king the results of his task. He is at my disposal while he is here and has volunteered to help you.”

Her heart jumped a little at the thought that he had remained. “Very well, and I shall promise not to make too big a mess of it.”

Fergus pulled her into a bear hug, sweeping her off her feet as he did when they were children. “You had better not, little sister,” then he became serious, “I really couldn’t bear to have anything happen to you too,” he said, lowering his head. “Not after….”

She took her hand and raised his chin up, “Hush that talk. I’ll be here to nag and worry you for a long time yet.”

He smiled, “You’ll be worrying Alistair more, I think.”

She frowned, “I certainly hope so.”

*****

The next morning found Alistair sitting at a table in the bailey yard, with pen and paper, taking down names of the people they had rescued. Morwen was walking through the crowd with the castle’s healer, checking for injuries and illness. Those who were infirmed were pulled aside for treatment and everyone else was sent to the hall for lodging. 

Alistair couldn’t help but watch Morwen as she worked. The people looked to her for guidance and help as if they knew she could give it. She always had a kind word and a smile for all, especially the children. They discovered quickly that she also had a pocket full of treats and was willing to share them. He could learn to like that very much, he thought.

As for Morwen, she was amazed at Ser Alain’s abilities; he was thoughtful and kind, but also resourceful. When one of the men turned out to be a blacksmith, he quickly checked the forge to find an extra hand was needed and sent the man there to work. “He understands them,” she thought, admiringly.

After several hours of work, everyone had been catalogued, checked, housed, and fed and they were free to eat their midday meal. As the hall was otherwise occupied for a while, the cook sent them a tray of meat, cheese and fruit along with some ale and the two of them ate under a large tree in the bailey yard.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were the Lady Morwen?” he asked.

She stopped eating and looked up at him, “It gets in the way sometimes.”

Alistair nodded, “So being Wenna gets things done?”

“Usually,” she answered, “But I think it’s from all that time in the woods. Those people didn’t have much respect for lords and ladies. They wanted someone who understood their problems, how they lived. Wenna does, Lady Morwen wouldn’t.”

“I think Wenna underestimates Lady Morwen’s capabilities. She proved today that she can get things done quickly and efficiently. I admire her.”

Morwen blushed at the compliment. “You seem to have your own way with the people, ser. Why did you send that man to the forge?”

“He was a capable blacksmith from what I could tell. He wanted to work and I would never deny a man the chance to earn his keep. Besides, taking charity is an embarrassment for many, especially a man,” Alistair explained.

She looked at him realizing that he did understand, he’d been in a similar position and had made something of himself. Well-made indeed, she thought.

“So now that everyone’s taken care of, what’s next?” he asked.

“Mathis will determine who can and wants to return to their homes. The children who have no families or are too young to know who their families are will be farmed out to local homes and families who will care for them. Those who wish to stay will be given jobs and training to make a living for themselves,” she explained. “A good night’s work, don’t you agree?”

Alistair smiled his best smile at her question, “A good night’s work it was. Not one I’ll soon forget.”

Morwen laughed at his comment as she started to walk away, “I would think you would not.”

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“The lists,” she answered, “I go there every day to practice.” She kept walking, then stopped and turned around to face him, “Would you like to join me?”

He could not think of anything he would rather do than practice sword and bow with such a beautiful woman, “I’ll get my kit,” he said and ran into the hall.

*****

If he had any doubt as to Morwen’s abilities as a bowman, he lost them quickly. She could hit from all angles, distances and had a variety of tricks to use to make an arrow practically dance in the air. He had never seen the like. 

“Where did you learn to shoot like that?” he asked amazed.

Morwen pulled her arrows out of the target, “My mother taught me, but I honed my skills with Laban’s father. He was a Dalish master bowman and I have yet to see his equal.”

“I have never seen yours that is for sure. How are you with a sword?” 

“I haven’t much practice with a shield, although Rory and Fergus tried often enough to teach me.”

Alistair walked over and picked up his sword and shield, “Come then, I need a partner.”

“All right, but twin blades for me, so no bashing,” she told him.

Alistair nodded, laughing, “That does take a lot of fun out it, but as you wish, my lady.”

“Stop calling me that, and raise your sword,” she ordered.

Alistair saw an opening and took it, “Of course, my lady,” he teased.

Morwen’s ire was up and she struck out with her right hand which he easily deflected, “I said stop that!”

“Yes, my lady Morwen,” he provoked, holding off her advances with his shield. “Ooo... That was a good one, my lady.”

“I…said…stop that!” she said angrily, striking out with her dagger. He neatly sidestepped the thrust causing her to lose her balance and fall to the ground. She grunted her displeasure as he laughed at her.

“It is not a good idea to lose your temper in a fight, you know. Can really mess with your abilities,” he said, smiling. He held out his hand to help her up. She took it and got up to stand in front of him and fast as lightning had his arm pinned behind his back, immobilized.

“You were saying, ser knight?” she asked sweetly.

Alistair had not been a Warden for nothing. Faster than she had moved he reversed her hold and pinned her arms behind her back, forcing her to lean against his chest for support. He was warm and wet with perspiration, his muscles hard and strong; she licked her lips and looked him in the eyes, so blue and inviting. He looked down at her and slowly brought his lips to hers, tasting and teasing her, asking her to indulge. She opened to him and kissed him back, taking him in. He released her arms and bought his around her, holding her in place as his lips moved to her cheeks and neck, savoring her. She moaned slightly and sighed, bringing up her arms to encircle his neck, pulling him in for more. A noise from behind brought them back from their exploration and they turned to see a servant standing a discreet distance away, waiting. 

Breathless, they slowly returned to themselves, embarrassed to be caught. Morwen turned to the man, “Yes, what is it?” she asked hoarsely.

“His lordship asks that you and Ser Alain come to dinner, my lady.”

She hesitated, catching her breath, “Yes, tell his lordship we will be there presently.”

“Yes, my lady,” replied the servant and hurried off.

Morwen turned to look at Alistair then, not knowing what to say. She had kissed a man she barely knew and would kiss him again if she could and not stop. What must he think? She hung her head and blushed red at the thought.

Alistair sensed her worry and turned her to face him, putting his hand on her cheek to raise her head towards him. “May I see you later? Tonight?” he asked hopeful.

She was torn; she was the Teyrn’s sister, not a loose woman, but she wanted him. She took a chance, “Yes,” she answered, making him smile, “The garden?”

“Excuse yourself after dinner and meet me here,” he suggested, “Please?”

She leaned up and kissed him softly and quickly, “Oh yes,” she answered and ran for the house, Alistair watching her.

****

Dinner would simply not get over with, he thought. He’d eaten practically nothing, he was so nervous in anticipation of his meeting with Morwen. He looked down the table at her as she spoke to Rory who was seated next to her. She looked over Rory’s shoulder at him and blushed, smiling. Alistair wanted to see her look like that for the rest of his life.

Fergus noticed his interest and whispered to him, “It’s going well? One of the servants reported Morwen and an unknown man were seen alone in the lists this afternoon,” he teased.

Alistair looked longingly at the lady in question, “Draw up the contracts, I’ll sign them,” he said. Fergus smiled and nodded.

After dinner, there was entertainment and dancing for the guests. Alistair led Morwen out on the floor for the first dance, per Fergus’ suggestion. He took her in his arms, twirling her about, leaning in to whisper, “One or two more then excuse yourself.” She nodded.

Both of them were forced to dance with others but soon found themselves together again. The last move was a twirl and Alistair deftly twirled her toward the exit and out the door to the garden.

It was warm out and many of the flowers had bloomed so the garden was a fragrant haven. Alistair took her hand and led her to a bench just out of view and turned to look at her. “Tell me about yourself,” he asked, “I want to know.”

“What do you want to know?” she asked.

“Oh, what you like and don’t like, where you were born, who were your friends, everything,”

“Only if you tell me,” she said, smiling.

Alistair sensed a problem but didn’t withdraw, “Okay, I was born in Redcliffe, at the castle. My mother was a serving girl and I really don’t know who my father was. I was sent to school by the Arl and became a knight. I served him until Alistair became king, then went to serve him.”

Morwen perked up, “Do you know King Alistair? He is from Redcliffe.”

He cleared his throat, struggling with his answer, “as close to the truth as possible,” he thought. “I…have met him. He’s a decent man, kind and generous. I like him.”

“Oh,” she said, “You don’t know him that well?”

“Well, I actually serve Arl Eamon, the chancellor, so I don’t really see the king much.What about you?”

She smiled and leaned towards him, “I was born here in the castle. Rory, Laban and Salus are my friends. I don’t like to wear dresses, or eat mushrooms. I like strawberries, roses, and…you.”

He cupped her check with his hand and she leaned into his palm, sighing. He felt so right to her, like she was supposed to be with him. His lips came down on hers and she sighed, he was so warm, inviting; she wanted nothing more than to stay here with him forever.

Alistair’s hands moved around her and pulled her closer, never breaking the kiss. He moaned as she nibbled at his lips, encouraging him to move closer. He picked her up and set her on his lap, kissing her neck and cheeks, lips and hair, taking her all in. She moaned and ran her fingers through the hair on the back of his neck, sending shivers down his spine. 

“Maker, Wenna! Where have you been all my life?” he said as he ran his lips over hers. “I don’t ever want to let you go.”

She laughed softly at his admission, “Then don’t,” she said invitingly.

Alistair suddenly realized his mistake. She wanted Ser Alain, the knight of her dreams. She was everything he wanted or ever would want and he was in love, for the last time, he knew. He had fallen in love with the woman he was betrothed to and she thought him someone else. What to do now?

Morwen ran her lips over his and he kissed her hard, drawing on her strength, seeking a way out of his predicament. He was breathing hard as the wanting grew into need, it had been so long. She rubbed her body against him, causing him to moan and pull her closer, his hands roaming over her, hers over him. His fingers found the curve of her breast and she whimpered slightly, arching into him. She reached down and fumbled with the laces of his breeches, seeking him. 

His eyes opened wide, he wanted her more than any woman and she wanted him, but he couldn’t have her, not now, not here. He reached down and took her hand away from his laces and brought it to his lips. His voice cracked with emotion as his lips came to her ear, “Not here, love, not now. I would have you where you could moan with pleasure and so could I, where we could have all the time we wanted without fear of detection.”

Morwen sighed, catching her breath, nodding. He was right; they needed a better place and more time.“My room?” she asked.

Alistair shook his head, “Time would still be short there,” he explained. “But our time will come soon, love, I promise.” He pulled her closer and kissed her, leaving them both breathless again.

She was disappointed but understanding, she had waited all her life for this man, she would wait longer if she had to. “Not too long, please,” she pleaded, taking his lips for another deep kiss.

He smiled, laughing softly, “Not too long indeed,” he agreed and claimed her mouth as his own.

*****

Alistair awoke with Morwen on his mind. She was everything: smart, strong, brave, and beautiful, holding her own with him and anyone else that came along. Life with her would not be dull, he knew, but an adventure every day. He had visions of dark-haired children with blue green eyes, bowmen all, and he smiled. Another rebel queen, he thought.

The problem was Ser Alain. He had to go and King Alistair had to take his place. Getting from one point to the other seemed like crossing a chasm without a bridge; a chasm he had dug himself. He had to tell her, today.

He rose to clean up and dress when there was a knock at the door. He wrapped the sheet around him, drew back the bolt, and opened it, peering outside. 

A servant stood there, holding a note sitting on a tray. “Messages for you, ser,” he said.

“Thank you,” Alistair replied as the man bowed and retreated. He shut the door and threw the bolt, then opened the first letter. 

It was from Eamon as he knew by the seal. Full of questions and requests as always, and one big one. ‘When are you returning with her?’ “Bloody flames, man! It takes time!” he complained to himself.

The other was much more important to him. Morwen requested his presence in the lists, this afternoon and again this evening for a hunt. Alistair’s thought leaped as he thought of seeing her. He had promised the morning to Fergus to settle the dowry and make any other arrangements but the rest of day, he was hers. He dressed quickly.

*****

There was no alone time in the lists that day so they sparred together and he allowed her to show him some tricks with a bow. Alistair impressed her with his skills even though the bow wasn’t his best weapon. Rory and he had sparred for her enjoyment, each working hard to impress her. She couldn’t take her eyes off Alistair the whole time.

Late in the afternoon they had left the lists to clean up for the evening meal. Walking to their rooms, he spied an alcove hidden from view and had pulled her into it, kissing her senseless for a few minutes until they had heard someone approaching. He had let her go then, kissing her one last time. “Soon, love, soon,” he promised as she sighed her pleasure.

After supper he met her in the bailey, where he found her with Laban and Salus. They were hunting stag again, she announced. “Laban has found sign of a big one just to the south. Are you ready?”

Alistair checked his bow and the rest of his kit, then smiled down at her, “Yes,” he said, then softly added, “Soon.” Chills ran up Morwen’s spine as she thought of what ‘soon” meant. “Let’s go,” she said nervously, making Alistair smile at her reaction.

They picked up the stag’s tracks about two miles from the castle, tracing it to the nearby woods. Its trail led into a deep bramble thicket that was next to impossible to find a way into. Salus finally got out his huge brush knife and began to but a path slowly towards the center. The group followed the path he made, tracking the stag as they went.

After about an hour, they found they had lost the stag’s trail, so they stopped in an open area to rest. Laban and Salus went on to locate the stag’s trail, leaving Alistair and Morwen alone.Alistair was relieved to stop and tend his wounds as the brambles had pierced him in several uncomfortable places. 

He was attempting to remove a large one from his shoulder when a pair of hands appeared behind him and began to work on removing the thorn. Alistair closed his eyes and let Morwen tend to him, relishing in the feel of her hands on his skin and how her hair tickled his neck. She skillfully removed the thorn, cleaned the wound, then leaned down and placed a kiss on the spot trailing her mouth to his neck and up to his ear. He moaned slightly and reached up to grab her and pull her around his body to his lap, bringing her mouth to his. She relaxed and opened to him, sighing as his hand began to explore her. They were intoxicated with each other.

Morwen straddled his legs, moving closer to him and his arms came around her, pulling her closer, kissing her wherever he could reach, and relishing her taste. “Alain,” she murmured causing him to pause. 

“Wenna, I….” he started but never finished. Suddenly out of the thicket came the stag, running straight for them. Morwen jumped up and ran for her bow and Alistair for his sword. The stag stopped and sized up the quarry, deciding Morwen was the better choice and headed for her, head down. “Morwen!” he yelled as she bent down to grab her bow. She looked up to see the stag heading straight for her and dove into the thicket to avoid its horns. 

Alistair reached the stag as it turned and struck it with his sword, wounding it on its front leg. He put up his shield to fend off a swing of the huge head, then stabbed the animal in the heart, making it drop to the ground, bleeding and dying quickly. He looked around feverishly for Morwen and found her stuck in the thicket of thorns, crying for help. “Maker! Wenna hold still,” he told her. He pulled out his dagger and began to cut her free a branch at time. She was crying and in pain by the time he freed her, collapsing into his arms as he soothed her fears. “Shhh, love, it’s all right. I’m here,” he crooned.

Morwen pulled back and let Alistair survey the damage. She had been scratched on her face in a few places but had a least a half dozen thorns imbedded in her back. He sat her down on a log, opened his pack and pulled out his healing supplies. “You’ll have to remove your tunic, love,” he said to her, “Just pull it over your head and hold it in the front.” She did what she was told, wincing and whimpering from the hurt.

He slowly took his fingers and grabbed a thorn saying, “This will hurt. I’m sorry.” She nodded and gritted her teeth as he pulled out the thorn, causing her to cry out a little. “I’m sorry, love,” he said, wanting to take her in his arms and comfort her. He grabbed another thorn and pulled it, repeating the process for the others. Morwen cried softly and let out the breath she was holding and her head sank to her chest. Alistair picked her up and held her, kissing her until she nodded she was better. 

She sat back down and he dressed the wounds, being careful not to hurt her too much. He was becoming painfully aware that she was half naked and had to concentrate hard on his task. When he was through, she started to put her shirt back on but he said, “Wait.”

Alistair placed his hands on her upper back and closed his eyes. Energy flowed through him into Morwen, directed at her wounds. Soothing warmth oozed into her, granting her release from the pain and calming her fear. She felt as if she had had a restful sleep. It was the most wonderful feeling she had ever felt. She turned to see what was causing the feeling and saw the energy coming from his hands and it frightened her. Alistair sensed her fear and stopped. She rose quickly and turned to him, her eyes betraying her feelings. “You…you are a mage?”

He shook his head, “No, I’m not. I was a Templar and learned their Talents. It seems I have an ‘aptitude’ for magic but not enough to do much,” he explained carefully.

“Then…how?” she asked.

“I really don’t know. A friend taught me the healing spell to see if I could do it. I…I’ve never used it before except on you. You were hurting so badly and…well…I...”

Morwen never let him finish. She walked forward and put her arms around him, dropping her shirt. Alistair took her in his arms and kissed her, savoring her as she opened to him. She kissed his cheeks and throat, whispering, “Thank you. Oh, thank you!” 

His hands came forward and cupped her breasts, bringing his head down to kiss them as Morwen moaned her pleasure. She was his and he knew it and he took advantage as she arched towards him. She worked the laces on his breeches loose and began to pull them down, her hands reaching inside, causing him to pant with need. She nearly had them off when they heard someone clear their throat. Alistair quickly pulled his breeches up and stepped in front of Morwen while she dressed.

Rory had come to find them. The king desired Ser Alain to return to Denerim immediately as Fergus had finished his task. Alistair nodded and gathered his and Morwen’s things while Rory skinned the stag and packed up the meat. Alistair looked at Morwen and exchanged a look of longing, then started back to the castle.

*****

He had to tell her. He loved her and she needed to know who he was. Alistair paced in front of the window in his room. It was late at night and he couldn’t sleep with worry and want. He cursed himself for a fool; it had been such a clever ruse; he gets to know her, woos her then tells her who he was. It was simple, but this was no simple woman, and he knew it. She would hate him and he would lose her. He was lost.

A knock at his door caused him to jump. He walked to the door and drew back the bolt, opening the door. Morwen stood there, waiting for him to open the door, then came into his arms, kissing him. He wrapped his arms around her and pushed the door shut with his back, leaning against it. She tasted so wonderful and he wanted her so, but not like this. She had to know the truth. “Wenna, I…oh Maker that feels good! I have…to tell you…,” he trailed off as she pulled up his shirt, pulling it over his head. She ran her hands over his chest and back, rubbing against him. They were breathless with need and he was close to the point of no return, but it was wrong and she had to know.

Alistair took a deep breath and pushed her gently back, holding on to her upper arms. “We have to talk. I…I have something to tell you and you won’t like it,” he started.

Morwen’s face fell as he spoke, sure he didn’t want her. “What is it?” she asked him.

Alistair couldn’t tell her, couldn’t hurt her and that is what he had to do. She was terrified she’d lose him, as he was of losing her. “I have to leave at first light.”

“Why?” she asked.

He let her go then and she wrapped her arms around herself. “The king has requested I return immediately with the information your brother has gathered on his behalf. I must go.”

You can’t stay for just one more day?”

Alistair took her hands in his. “Wenna, I…I love you. I know it’s been only a few days, but I do. I want you to know that.”

Morwen smiled, her eyes shining, “I was hoping you did. I love you too.”

Alistair leaned forward and kissed her softly, then pulled back and looked into her eyes, “Whatever happens, I want you to know, I will return for you, love. Please, will you wait for me?”

“Yes!” she cried and threw herself in his arms, “Yes, I will wait!” He kissed her hard, holding her close, sure he would return, and soon.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four years after Alistair's Warden lover dies killing the Archdemon, he still mourns her, prompting Arl Eamon to take drastic measures to insure the line of succession and in the end, Alistair's happiness.

****Denerim Palace

It had been three months and he was still here. He ached to return to Highever, but each time he planned to leave, something would happen or some dignitary needed pacified. Alistair was in a foul mood and getting fouler by the day. He had to see Morwen soon or go crazy.

His guilt at leaving her behind was only eclipsed by his guilt at not having told her who he was. The thought of hurting her was foremost on his mind and he worked feverishly trying to find a way to minimize the pain he knew he had to inflict. She was suffering now at his absence and his promise to return. He had to do something and fast.

“Eamon!” he yelled at his uncle, who was walking down the hallway by his room, “We must talk. Now!”

His uncle was unaccustomed to having Alistair command him so and was taken aback, “Uh…of course, you majesty. What can I do?”

Alistair got to the point and fast, “I need to return to Highever. Immediately.”

Eamon was aware of his nephew’s desire to return to the Lady Morwen. It pleased him that his king had fallen for the lady as she was to be his wife, but matters of state were delicate and he was needed here. “Forgive me, sire, but the Orlesian and Rivaini emissaries are due in just days. We must decide how to handle them and the matters at hand first.”

“This doesn’t sound like the same man who practically ordered me to go and meet the Lady Morwen. Now that I have and wish to see more of her, you prevent me. Why?”

Eamon paused and cleared his throat, “There have been…concerns raised as to the lady’s suitability, sire.”

Alistair was wise to this tactic, “Who has another candidate and who is she?” he asked slyly.

“The daughter of Prince Abdiel of Orlais is one; a lovely girl of seventeen they say. There is also the Princess Dalia of Rivain, youngest daughter of Prince Casim. Powerful alliances would be had from either choice.”

“I want Morwen.”

The chancellor of Ferelden had never refused a summons or command from the king, Alistair, Cailan, or Maric, but he was tempted to now. The lady may be thought of as unsuitable, and the alliance powerful but the country needed an ally from outside. “Sire, you must reconsider…”

“It will be Morwen, uncle; and I will entertain no other suggestions. She is the one I have chosen and want. There will be no arguing. I love her,” he admitted.

Fergus had been right, then, Eamon thought. They both had it bad. Morwen it would be, but could he tell her who he really was? He made a mental note to keep the appointments with the emissaries just in case.

“As you wish, sire, I will send an invitation to the Lady Morwen to join us here at the castle. Perhaps for Feast Day?” he suggested.

“I can’t just go to her?” Alistair asked, disgusted.

“After your last trip, that is inadvisable. You were nearly killed and I would not allow you to place yourself in such danger again. I respectfully insist you stay. The lady can attend you here,” he replied.

Alistair turned toward the window and its view of the city, “Very well,” he said, giving in, “arrange it immediately.”

“Yes, your majesty, the messenger will leave today. Feast Day is in two weeks, that will give us time to prepare a fine welcome for the lady,” Eamon told him.

“That will be good, and will be all, my lord,” Alistair commanded. Eamon bowed and left him to his thoughts.

He turned back the window and its spectacular view, “Wenna,” he thought furiously, “I hope you can forgive me, love.”

 

**Highever Castle**

Morwen paced the castle ramparts, watching and waiting. It was a habit she had gotten in to not long after Alain had departed. She would watch for travelers coming and then run down to see if he was there. He never was. She had stopped running down to the bailey weeks ago, but still came to watch.

Three months she had waited. Messages had been sent to him at the palace; love letters from her, but they had returned with the messenger. “He could not be found, your ladyship,” was the reason.

Fergus was in contact with Arl Eamon, the king’s chancellor, and the Arl vowed to discover where the man was, he had told her. Yet, secretly, Eamon had told Fergus that matters were such that it was possible the contract would be annulled. Fergus couldn’t bring himself to tell her.

Morwen stirred from her watch at the familiar sound of Fergus coming towards her. He approached her slowly; gauging her mood, then came to stand beside her. “He isn’t coming, is he?” she said, more statement of fact than question.

“It does not look like he will. He cannot be found,” Fergus replied.

Morwen hung her head as the tears fell. She had found the one man she wanted and now he was gone. Fergus put his arm around her shoulders, seeking to comfort her. He loathed to broach the subject as he was afraid of the result, “What about the king, Wenna?” The contract is still in place. He will be good to you, I know; I wouldn’t have negotiated with him if I had not thought so.”

Morwen looked out over the landscape of her home and knew that the time for decision had come, “I will do as you ask, Fergus.”

It broke his heart to hear her say so; he wanted nothing but her happiness. “The king has invited you to the palace in Denerim for Feast Day celebrations. It will help take your mind off your troubles perhaps? Or, give you some new ones to ponder,” he added.

“Arrange it,” she replied, continuing to stare at the view. 

Fergus gathered his sister into his arms, stroking her hair as she cried softly into his shoulder. “It will be fine, Wenna. I promise,” he said.

 

**Denerim Palace**

She had been a nervous wreck all the way there. On one hand she was excited to meet the king but on the other, she wanted Alain so much it hurt. She was not cut out to be such a fence sitter, she thought. 

Her train arrived at the palace gates at midday. She was dressed in a new dress, purchased especially for the trip along with many others, gifts from Fergus. Morwen had somehow managed to include her bow and leathers, hiding them in a trunk under the dresses and wrapped in silk cloth. She felt comforted by their presence even if she might never use them again.

The gates opened shortly after their arrival was announced and a distinguished middle-aged man in palace livery met them as she dismounted. “Greetings, your ladyship. I am Martin, chief of his majesty’s household. On behalf of the king and the people of Ferelden, I bid you welcome to the palace,” he announced, and then bowed deeply to her.

“The pleasure is mine, Ser Martin. Tell me, where is the king this fine day?” she asked.

“His majesty regrets not being able to greet you himself, but informs you he will see you this evening at the banquet. If I may show you to your quarters, my lady? The trip was long and I am sure you wish to rest and prepare for the dinner.”

“Of course, Ser Martin, it has been,” she answered and he led her to the guest wing and her suite of rooms.

Morwen looked about the room at its opulence and contemplated her presence. She had asked Martin of Ser Alain, but he could provide her with no information. He was gone then, she decided, time to move on. Her heart wrenched at the thought and the tears began to well up when there was a knock at the door. “Come in,” she called.

The door opened and then closed again and she heard the soft footsteps as he came closer to her. She turned and he was there, taking her in his arms and kissing her mouth. Morwen tasted him and ran her hands over him, proving to herself that it was her Alain, the man she loved. 

Alistair couldn’t contain himself. Eamon had told him to stay away but he couldn’t, not after all they had been through and wanted. He held her close, moaning at her touch, willing that they could banish the world and he could have her now. “Wenna,” he said, “Maker, it’s been so long!”

“Alain…I thought you were gone for good. No one could find you…I sent letters…Oh!” she stammered, he felt so good to her.

“Oh, I am sorry, love. There were…complications but they have been cleared up now. I have…something to tell you, though,” he explained.

“What is it?” she asked, concerned.

Alistair began to pace from nervousness. He couldn’t tell her now, they hadn’t much time before the banquet but she had to know. “I am not who you think I am,” he said.

Morwen’s eyes grew big at his admission, “Then who are you?”

“I…well…you see…,” he started when there was a knock at the door. Alistair panicked and hid behind the drapes at the window catching Morwen completely by surprise. “Answer it! They can’t know I’m here.”

She nodded, confused at his behavior, and went to the door and opened it. It was a maid asking if she desired a bath and someone to help her dress. She accepted the help and asked that the bath be brought in a half hour. The maid bowed and departed as Morwen shut the door.

She turned towards the windows and Alistair’s hiding place. He slowly emerged and began to explain, “I am…oh bloody flames! I can’t! I can’t hurt you! Maker, Wenna, I love you and I have to hurt you. What do I do?”

Morwen was speechless. What was it that caused him to act so? She spoke tentatively, “Perhaps we could meet and talk later? Time is short as I have to go to dinner. The garden, like before?”

Alistair nodded his agreement. “Meet me there at the bench in the back after dinner tonight. I will wait for you.” With that, he took her into his arms and kissed her, holding nothing back until they were both breathless. “Until then,” he said and left her. 

*****

Morwen was more nervous than she had ever been; not even when she’d killed her first enemy had she been so anxious. She made her way to the door of the hall, worried she wasn’t good enough or pretty enough, not like the other women she saw. Her mother’s words to her came back over the years, “Just smile, my darling. Let them make the first move. You are a Teyrn’s daughter.” She painted a smile on and walked through the doors.

She was met by Ser Martin, who bowed to her and offered his arm and his services as chaperone. Morwen took the offering gladly, he was a kindly man and had come recommended by her brother. Fergus had given her a list of names of people that he wished her to meet as well as some that she could trust. The list had been provided to Ser Martin as well and he assured her he would take good care of her. She smiled a genuine smile at him and was rewarded with one herself. “Shall we, my dear?” he asked, offering his arm, and she nodded and took it.

There were so many people as it was Feast Day and many had come to celebrate it with the king. She had been told it was his favorite holiday and many of the guests invited were personal friends of his from his time in the war and with the Grey Wardens. The king had also asked many commoners whom he had met and worked with in the last year rebuilding his kingdom after the Blight.

Martin was an attentive partner for her, making sure she met the right people and that she was comfortable. She was introduced to mages, Templars, the Grand Cleric and the hahren of the local alienage. A Grey Warden named Carver kissed her hand and winked at her and the court mage, Wynne, was as polite and kind as could be. Martin explained to her that Wynne had been with the king from the beginning of the war against the Blight and was considered by many to be as good as a mother to King Alistair. Morwen could see why they would think so.

At last he led her to the side of the room near the high table where a few minutes later the trumpets sounded the arrival of King Alistair. He was dressed simply but finely, escorting the Arlessa of Redcliffe and followed by her husband, Arl Eamon and his brother Bann Teagan and the Lady Mairi. Everyone bowed low as he passed and when she had bowed she raised her head to see the one person she never expected. The man she loved was not Ser Alain, a minor knight from Redcliffe, but Alistair, king of Ferelden.

Alistair looked to his right as he approached the high table; Morwen was there as was Martin. He nodded to his steward who immediately placed his hand under her arm and whispered, “Are you all right, my lady?” Morwen nodded, gathering her wits and allowing him to lead her to the high table where she would sit as an honored guest and as befitted her status as the sister and daughter of a teyrn.

Martin then took his ceremonial staff and pounded it on the floor to get the attention of the hall, announcing that the meal was to begin. The servers hurried to the tables with huge plates of many dishes from all over Thedas. She was surprised to see that each place setting had a small wrapped package sitting on the plate. “Gifts from the king to his guests,” she was told by Bann Teagan who sat at her left. “Please do not worry, my lady. I shall see to your comfort,” he added, smiling a charming smile that she had no choice but to return. She could see why the Lady Mairi was so happy with him.

She ate little, however, and talked less, despite all of Teagan’s efforts. Alistair glanced down the table at her frequently. She was unhappy and he was the cause, he would have to find a way to make it up to her and quickly. 

After dinner there was entertainment, singing and dancing. Leliana, dear friend of the king’s and one of his companions during the war had been persuaded to sing. Her voice was clear and beautiful and Morwen wondered if the rumors that she had been a bard were true. A group of children from the Alienage danced and sang to a wonderful reception. They were all orphans who lived in an orphanage that the king had built and was patron of. 

When the entertainment was finished, all guests were asked to open their gifts. Morwen looked at the prettily wrapped box sitting near her plate and picked it up, suspicious of its contents. Teagan leaned in to her and said, “Please open it, my lady. I believe you will like it.”She nodded to him and carefully unwrapped the gift and opened the box. Inside she found a beautiful ring made of veridium and polished until she could see her reflection. It was shaped in the head of a stag with garnets set in as eyes. It was beautiful and she wanted to put it on but could not. She just sat there looking at it, tears in her eyes. 

Martin got the attention of the guests and announced that the dinner was concluded. Guests were invited to stay for dancing and socializing. Most of the people rose from their seats and began to mingle around and visit. Many were coming to the head table to meet the king and his guests so Morwen took advantage of the situation and snuck out of the hall. 

She was so close to crying she knew she would never make it back to her rooms so she ducked out a door and found herself in the garden. She wound her way to the back, knowing he would come for her there, so she waited, letting the tears fall. 

Alistair looked over at Morwen’s seat to find her gone. She had left without talking to him or even being introduced. Not that he blamed her. She had been lied to and courted in the name of another. Humiliation would be the least of the emotions she was feeling. As he glanced at her place at the table, he noticed the box; she had left it sitting on the table, not wanting to accept it. His heart fell.

*****

It was hours before he could get away. Alistair had finally told Martin that he had to relieve himself, and Martin had agreed to make his excuses. “She is in the garden, sire. I had her followed for her protection.” Alistair nodded and went to find her.

Morwen sat on the bench in the back of the garden where they had planned to meet. She had stopped crying long ago and merely sat and thought. She was angry and hurt and humiliated. The only she thing she was happy about was all the things she would say.

Alistair approached her, seeing her sitting on the bench. He moved closer, then cleared his throat, announcing his presence. “I suppose you want to talk to me,” he said warily.

She didn’t say a word, just kept her head down. He walked closer and cleared his throat, “I tried to tell you so many times, but I was afraid to hurt you. I…I’m sorry. I was so wrong.”

Morwen looked up at his admission, “You lied to me. I loved you and you lied to me. Was it fun, your majesty, breaking the heart of the Teyrn’s daughter? What is next? Will you stomp on it too or move on to bigger game?” she spat angrily at him.

His eyes grew dark at the venom in her voice, but he stood his ground, he was wrong, and he knew it. “Yes, I lied. In the beginning it was to protect me, but later, to protect you. I wanted to get to know you and being Alain was the best way I could think of. I was so very, very wrong, Wenna.”

“Don’t call me that! I am the Lady Morwen to you and I am leaving,” she declared furiously and ran off, leaving him there.

*****

Morwen had run to her rooms and had locked the door, then had thrown herself on the bed, crying. When she had finished, she undressed and dug out her leathers from the bottom of her chest and put them on. She carefully packed all her clothes, leaving a note and some coin to insure they were returned to Highever. She checked her bow and bowstring, then put on her quiver and daggers, and covering her head with her hood. She was about to climb out the window down to the courtyard below when there was a knock at her door. Morwen ignored it and started to lower herself out the window when she heard Alistair’s voice, “Please…Wenna…Lady Morwen, I need to speak with you. Just for a moment. Please!”

She hesitated but couldn’t go and not let him have a say, it was his home. She went to the door and drew back the bolt, letting him in. 

Alistair stood in the doorway, waiting on an invitation. When one did not come, he came in, shutting the door behind him. Morwen walked to the window and looked out at the city and the night. “Talk,” she said quietly.

“You have every right to be angry with me and I deserve it. I just wanted to let you know some things first,” he explained.

“Go ahead,” she replied, crossly.

He shuffled his feet, realizing that talking to the Landsmeet was easier than convincing the woman he loved that he was trying to protect her, and that he still loved her. “I told Fergus to help me maintain the ruse so that I could get to know you without all the trappings of being king. I tried to tell you several times but every time I did, I couldn’t hurt you. And, each time it got harder and harder to tell you.”

“Fergus knows about this?” she asked pointedly.

“Don’t blame him, I commanded him to help, he was reluctant to put you that position.”

Morwen hung her head and sighed, could she trust anyone? “Was there truth in anything you told me?”

“I never lied about who I was basically. I am a minor knight, a former Templar, and I was raised by Arl Eamon at Redcliffe. I left out the Wardens, my father and the king thing,” he paused, gathering his emotions, “I never lied to you about how I feel; I do love you and I do want to marry you.”

She clenched her fists, trying to get a hand on her own emotions, they ran so wild now. “What do you want me to do?” she asked him.

“I am releasing you from the contract. A messenger has been sent to your brother explaining that the contract is refused as you do not agree to the union. I forfeit all rights to you, your properties and titles. Here is a copy of the document I sent.” He laid a scroll on the table by the settee. “If the marriage takes place, it will be by your decision and yours only. No property, no titles, nothing exchanged.” Morwen turned to face him as he explained the terms. “I only ask one thing of you, that you stay for one more day and let me show you who I really am. You have met Alain, now I ask that you meet Alistair.”

She looked at him as he said that, not sure what to do. But she was reminded of something Rory had told her years ago in the cave. She had asked him why he had not given up on her after her father had told him no. He had said that no one gets anywhere without taking chances and that is what he was doing now. It had worked then.

Morwen raised her chin and looked into his blue eyes, “All right, one day,”

Alistair smiled, “Wear an everyday dress and good walking shoes. I’ll be back in the morning to collect you.” He turned to let himself out but turned back suddenly, “Thank you, Lady Morwen,” then he opened the door and left her standing.

*****

The next morning, Alistair was at Morwen’s door bright and early to collect her. She had taken his advice and worn a plain blue dress with a dark green trim and belt along with a pair of comfortable walking shoes. The color of the dress brought out her eyes, the maid who had helped her said. She looked in the mirror and was wondering what he could possibly see in her when there was a knock at the door.

Morwen opened the door to find him standing there, so handsome, with a dazzling smile that lit up the room. He was dressed simply in a pair of dark brown breeches and white shirt with a dark blue jacket and boots. She blushed as he looked her up and down, saying, “Maker! You look beautiful, my lady.”

She thanked him and reached for her shawl and her small purse, which she tied to her belt. He offered her his arm and she took it, hesitantly, and he led her down the hall.

“Where are we going?” she asked him.

“Today you get to see who I am,” he announced. “I am more than just the king, my lady, and would have you see that.” Morwen nodded.

They walked out the garden doors and through the garden, stopping long enough for Alistair to cut a single red rose from a large bush. He carefully stripped the thorns from the stem and handed it to her. She smiled slightly and accepted it, saying, “Thank you.” He smiled at her reaction.

He led her out to the bailey and across the yard to a large building on the edge, surrounded by a wall. Alistair pulled out a key from his pocket and unlocked the door and opened it. Morwen noticed the door had a griffon on it, “The Grey Warden coat of arms,” she thought.

He took her hand and led her inside, where a small group of men were sitting at a table, talking. One of the men looked up and spied them, saying, “Alistair! What do you have there? A new recruit?” then the man laughed heartily.

Alistair laughed with him, “No, Ethan, she’s just a guest. I thought the Lady Morwen would be interested in seeing the compound.”

Ethan smiled down at her; he was large man with a burly mustache and a twinkle in his eye. “Well then, we shall see that she does.” He held his arm out for her, “Shall we, my lady?” 

Morwen looked at Alistair, who smiled and nodded his head. She took the offered arm and he led her away to show her around. Alistair watched her as she walked around with Ethan, asking questions and giggling at his compliments. When he suggested they go see the lists, Alistair followed them outside to a large yard where a group of men were sparring and practicing with their weapons. Many of them greeted him with shouts of, “Ho, Alistair!”

She looked up at Alistair and asked, “Why do they not call you king or your majesty?”

“Even though I am king of Ferelden, I am also a Grey Warden. I cannot change that fact nor would I. Here, no one has titles or rank. We are all the same. I do not ask them to call me king even though they would. Here I am just Alistair,” he explained. 

Morwen knew that he was just that, Alistair, with these men. She watched him as he spoke with each one as he would a brother, as they were in a sense. The young Warden she had met at the banquet, Carver, came over to speak with her. He was handsome and charming, and she was more than a little flattered to have his attention. She looked up and noticed Alistair watching them as they walked to the weapons rack, he smiled at her and she smiled back. He was so pleased she enjoyed his friends. 

When Carver asked her if she could use weapons, she admitted she could shoot a bow. He asked if she would like to shoot and show them. Morwen was nervous but Alistair smiled and said, “Go ahead, show what you can do.” He walked her over to a rack of bows and she chose the one she would use and looked up at him nervously.

“I…don’t think…,” she started.

He leaned in to her, placing his hand on her shoulder, “Show them what you can do. Don’t hold back.” She nodded, painfully aware of what his touch was doing to her, and reluctantly pulled away from him and took her place to shoot.

Thirty minutes later, she had a marriage proposal and at least three offers to join the Wardens under her belt in admiration of her great skill. Ethan and a Warden named Wallis asked if she would return to teach them some of her techniques and she promised she would. Carver bowed low over her hand and kissed it, making her blush with his attention. Alistair took her hand and led her back into the barracks, out to the bailey and to the gardens. 

He stopped in the garden and turned to her, “What did you think of the Grey Wardens?” 

“That is what you were before you were king?” she remarked.

“That is what I still am, my lady. Once you are joined to the Wardens, there is no turning back. If they should need me, I am still bound to them, before family and country if need be. It is part of who I am,” he told her.

Morwen thought for a moment then looked up at him, “It is a very good part,” she said softly.

“I’m glad you like it,” he replied huskily starting to reach for her but stopping himself. Not yet, he thought. “How about some lunch?” he asked her.

“I am hungry,” she answered and he led her through the doors, turning a corner, and going down a flight of stairs. At the bottom of the stairs, he turned another corner and walked into a room with several tables with people eating. Many rose to bow before him, but he waved them off, saying, “Not today, friends. Please eat.” They took places at a table in the back of the room and a maid hurried to fetch plates and cups for them. Another brought pitchers of ale and water, with still another plates of meat, cheese, fruit and fresh bread and butter. The smell was heavenly and Morwen was suddenly famished.

They were half-way through the meal when she asked, “Why here? You could eat upstairs and be more comfortable.”

“When I was a boy at Redcliffe, I ate in the common kitchen room every day. I found I missed it when I went to the Abbey. After I came to live here, I decided it was a good idea to meet my staff and find out who does the real work around here. I just keep coming back now. It’s home to me,” he said.

“I always hated eating in the hall with my family. When Fergus and I were younger we would eat upstairs in a small room off our quarters. It was a chance for us to talk to our parents as we often didn’t get to see them at all during the day. Fergus and I still do when we can,” she said.

Alistair smiled at her admission, “I should get a room like that. The Arl has one at the castle where he eats lunch with his family and close friends. Perhaps you will help me choose one?”

“I would love to,” she confessed. He reached over and took her hand and squeezed it not wanting to let go. “Is the food good?”

 

“Wonderful. Your cooks are the best I’ve seen. I’m afraid I’m stuffed now,” she laughed.

He smiled, “Then let’s away. I have a full afternoon planned. Did you bring any riding clothes?”

Morwen cocked her head, “Well, yes, actually. Where are we going?”

Alistair took her hand and pulled her up out of her chair, leading her out of the room. “Everyone all right?” he asked the room, to which they all replied “Yes, your majesty, never better.” He smiled at them all, bid them good day then left with her.

He took her upstairs to her room and promised to return in an hour for her. As he left, she called to him, “Thank you,” she said. 

He smiled and bowed, “You are welcome, my lady.”

“You don’t have to call me that anymore.”

“Your desire is my command,” he replied, and it was.

*****


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four years after Alistair's Warden lover dies killing the Archdemon, he still mourns her, prompting Arl Eamon to take drastic measures to insure the line of succession and in the end, Alistair's happiness.

True to his word, he returned an hour later to collect her. She had spent the better part of the time standing at the window, contemplating her morning with the Wardens. They were a rough bunch but shared a bond she could see but not understand. It was like they were family, only more; a part of him she never expected.

A knock on the door disturbed her reverie as the door slowly opened to reveal Alistair. He smiled at her and asked, “Ready?”

Morwen nodded in agreement and looked at him. He had changed his clothes and wore a set of light chainmail with the Grey Warden insignia on the front. He carried his sword and shield. He looked every inch the proper Warden and king and she caught her breath at the site of him, he was so handsome. “You should bring your bow and daggers, just in case,” he said.

Alistair could hardly look at her and not take her in his arms, she was so beautiful. She had changed into soft doeskin breeches and a soft white tunic edged with blue and green trim that matched her eyes. Over it all she wore a jacket of dark blue wool emblazoned with the Cousland crest. She had braided her hair and the braid ran down her back. Morwen smiled at his regard, wishing he would do whatever was on his mind right then, but knowing he wouldn’t until she told him. “I’ll see what this day brings first,” she thought. 

“Coming?” he asked, and she picked up her bow and quiver, buckling the daggers on first. They headed out to the stables at the back of the palace.

Once mounted, Alistair signaled to the accompanying knights to head out and the party turned out into the streets of Denerim. Morwen was surprised to see he only traveled with four knights in attendance. “Shouldn’t there be more guards?” she asked, concerned.

Alistair laughed, “Yes, there should and there are. There are least a dozen more hidden in the crowd, following us. Zevran is very thorough when it comes to my safety.”

Morwen had heard of the infamous Zevran, a companion of Alistair’s from the war. He had been an Antivan Crow assassin sent to kill him and Maia but they had befriended him instead. Alistair had made him head of his personal security and all attempts on his life since then had failed.

They traveled through the city and Alistair pointed out to her many of the projects he had started to rebuild the city after the battle. Blocks of homes, bridges and roads were all replaced with new. Morwen was fascinated by his knowledge of the people and their daily lives and struggles. He paid attention; she saw and followed his words with deeds. A well-made man indeed, she thought happily.

After about an hour they found themselves at the gates to the Alienage. They dismounted and several young elven boys ran forward to take the reins of their horses. “Good afternoon, your majesty,” they all said happily. Alistair smiled at them, and gave each one a sovereign, more money than most of them would see in a year. “Thank you, sire,” they said.

He took her hand and led her around the village, as that was what it really was now. Gone were the many hovels that Morwen had seen from a distance when she had passed by in the carriage and in their place were blocks of small houses and apartments, all clean and tidy. The Hahren, Valendrian came forward to greet them, kindly remembering her from the banquet. She smiled and thanked him for his kindness, causing Alistair to look at her proudly.

“The Lady Morwen was interested to see what we have done, Hahren. Shall we show her?” Valendrian was delighted to have such a kind and lovely guest, he said, and offered her his arm. She took it gladly and they walked through the village, looking at all the changes and discussing plans. 

When she was shown where the new healing house would be, Morwen suggested that the herbalists’ shops be located close by to insure supplies were always available when needed. She also was concerned that fresh water be available. Alistair made a note to remember her suggestions and implement them. 

Their last stop was the orphanage, where a sea of children spilled out of the doors and enveloped them, wishing them good day. Morwen was overwhelmed with the attention and smiled at Alistair as he watched her shake hands and talk to as many children as she could. The Chantry sister in charge, Sister Beatrice, took them on a tour of the building, showing them the dormitories, school rooms and other facilities. The sister was most complimentary to Alistair, “None of this would be possible without the King,” she told her. “He has financed the project himself and overseen every detail down to the selection of tutors for the children. We owe him so much, Maker bless him.” Morwen was speechless, watching Alistair talk to a young boy, showing him his sword. She watched how tender he was with the boy, answering his questions truthfully and honestly. He looked up, noticing her watching him, and smiled before turning back to his young fan.

When they had finished their visit, the sister and Valendrian escorted them back to their horses, bidding them goodbye. Morwen called the sister aside and slipped her purse into the woman’s hand, whispering to her, “So the work continues.” The woman was touched to receive such a fine gift and thanked her to which Morwen only smiled and nodded. Alistair wanted to take her in his arms and thank her himself.

The party mounted and headed back to the castle and Morwen was quiet. Alistair let her think; knowing that was what she needed most right now. He had given her much food for thought and she needed to contemplate it. He kept busy discussing palace matters with some of his knights.

When they reached the palace, they dismounted and he walked her up to her rooms. He stood in her doorway for a moment, then decided to speak, “What did you think of my projects?”

“You have been busy! Everything is so wonderful. I…,” she trailed off, emotion getting the better of her. 

He smiled at her, “I’m glad you are pleased. I have tried to do what needed done. Cailan had so many dreams, Anora told me. I want them to be reality.”

“They are,” she said softly. “So what is next?”

“I thought you might want some time to rest before supper. It has been a busy day so far.”

“Yes, it has,” she agreed.

“Tonight I have something special planned. Wear a simple dress, nothing fancy, we might get a little dirty,” he told her. 

“Okay,” she replied, puzzled.

Alistair laughed at her confusion, “You’ll see. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours. I did promise Eamon to read some of the things he sent me today. Later?”

“Yes, I look forward to it…Alistair.”

His heart leaped, “As do I Wenna.”

*****

Alistair called at Morwen’s door three hours later. She had been on pins and needles, wondering where they were going and what they would be doing. She hadn’t been able to rest at all and had instead, sharpened her daggers, restrung her bow and fletched some new arrows. She had finally called for a bath in the hopes that it would relax her. The maid had suggested the scent of roses for the water and she had agreed; it was her favorite. She had chosen a dark green dress with a dark blue sash and trim that also set off her eyes. She wore comfortable shoes and had stashed a dagger into her boot. There was nothing to do but wait.

For his part, Alistair had to believe that he was more nervous tonight than he had ever been. Staring down the Archdemon might have been easier, he thought, at least then he knew where he stood. He had stopped by the garden and spent time looking for just the right rose to bring her and had taken great pains to look the best he could in his black breeches, white shirt and grey jerkin. He needed a drink.

He knocked on her door and waited for her to answer, half expecting her not to, but the door opened and she stood there. They said nothing at first, just looked at each other, one appraising the other. Finally he broke the silence, saying, “Maker, Wenna, you look wonderful.” He presented her with the rose.

“So do you, Alistair. Thank you,” she replied softly, sniffing the rose, “I’m ready.”

He kept staring for a moment then caught himself, “Oh…well, let’s go then,” and he offered his arm. She took it and they walked down the hall and out to the bailey yard. He nodded to four men dressed in street clothes, who followed them out the side gate and into the city street. 

Morwen leaned in and whispered to Alistair, “Where are we going? Are you sure it’s safe out here at night?”

He took her hand in his and squeezed it, “No, I’m not sure, but it will be fun, I assure you.” She looked pale and nervous so he put his arm around her shoulders and she leaned towards him. “Don’t worry, I have it under control, nothing will hurt you while I am here.” And she knew it to be true.

They walked about two streets over from the palace and she found herself in front of a tavern with a sign above that had a blue griffon on it. The noise inside sounded like a melee combat. She looked at Alistair, confused, “We are going in there?”

“Sure. It’s the best ale in town and the best company too,” he put his hand in hers, “You’ll be fine, just hold onto my hand.” She did and didn’t let go.

Inside did seem more like melee combat than a tavern. Alistair glanced around quickly as if looking for someone, then led her through the crowd, never letting go of her hand. They made their way to the bar at the back where a young pretty brunette was pouring drinks. She had dark eyes and was obviously about six months pregnant. 

“Alistair!” she cried and came running around the counter. He caught her up in a big bear hug and set her down, looking at her worriedly.

“What are doing working down here? I thought Bode was behind the bar and you were in the kitchen? You’ll strain yourself, woman! Get out of there!” he put his hands on her arms and pushed her into a chair. “Wenna, make sure she stays there and doesn’t move until Bode gets back.” With that said he went around the bar and started pouring ales for the customers, talking and joking with each one. Morwen was flabbergasted at the sight she was witnessing. The king of Ferelden was pouring ale for customers behind the bar in a seedy tavern in Denerim. What did she get herself into?

“You must be the Lady Morwen. My name is Marta,” said the girl shyly.

She turned sharply at the mention of her name, realizing she had been ignoring the girl. “I’m so sorry! Yes, I’m Morwen, please call me Wenna. How do you know Alistair?”

“Oh, we go back to when he first joined the Wardens. We kept company for a while until I had to go to Gwaren to help care for my sister’s children,” she explained, “That’s where I met my husband Bode. When my uncle died last year, we came here to take over the tavern and it’s been like this ever since.”

“Where is your husband?” Morwen asked.

Marta looked around to see if everything was going well, “He had to go get the guard to deal with a drunk who keeps trying to pickpocket everyone. He should be back soon. He’ll be so surprised when he sees who’s behind the bar!” She laughed and Morwen had to laugh with her.

The absent Bode soon appeared and when introduced, bowed low over Morwen’s hand. He had served her father in his infantry and was so pleased to meet the Teyrn’s daughter. “Now to go relieve the king at the bar. I imagine he has plans for you,” then he winked at her, gave Marta a kiss and a pat on the belly and went off. 

Alistair gave Bode a verbal thrashing about women in her condition tending bar then came back to sit at the table with her and Marta. “So how is my future godchild doing?” He placed his hand on her stomach for a moment, then smiled as he felt the kick. “Has to be a boy with a punch like that,” he said.

“I’ll settle for healthy,” she said, smiling.

“Did you get those hams I sent?” he asked her.

Marta was put out by his question, “Yes, and I told you to stop doing that.”

“I got a hundred from some lord in the Anderfels, what was I supposed to do? Let them spoil? I had to have ham three times a day for a month because of that,” he complained, “Better you have them.”

Marta laughed, imagining him eating ham all day, “All right, they were excellent and I will take some more if you send them. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll see you get some food and ale.” She smiled at Morwen and bent give Alistair a kiss on the check then headed for the kitchen.

“Sorry about that,” he told her, “She lost one last year and I worry about her too much some times.”

“You don’t have to make excuses, Alistair. I like her, and I know what she was to you,” Morwen replied.

He looked at her with a puzzled look to which she only smiled sweetly, causing him to shrug. Morwen laughed at his discomfort. 

Marta returned with another girl, bringing fresh lamb stew, bread and ale to drink. Everything smelled heavenly. “The good ale?” Alistair asked, cocking his eyebrow.

Marta smiled, “Grey Warden special. Just for you.”

“Excellent! Now you’ll know what it’s like to be a Warden,” he told Morwen, “Thanks, Marta.” Marta left them and returned to the kitchen.

They ate what had to be some of the best food she had had in a long time and sat drinking their ale and listening to the musicians in the corner. When they began playing a lively tune, Alistair stood up and held out his hand, “Shall we, my lady?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Alistair. There are so many people here,” she said, hesitating.

He smiled and leaned down to her whisper to her, “None of them know who you or I are. Why care? You weren’t afraid to dance with me at Highever.”

Morwen always did like a challenge and gave him her hand. He led her out to the middle of the floor and they danced until they were breathless then departed to a rousing round of applause. They returned to their table to find fresh ale waiting for them. 

“What do you think?” Alistair asked her.

“About what?” she inquired.

“Everything. You’ve seen what Alistair’s life is like. How does it compare to Alain’s? Does it put you off?”

Morwen smiled at him like she knew a secret about him he didn’t know, “No. I rather like Alistair,” she replied, then leaned in close to whisper in his ear, “Very much.”

He smiled and boldly planted a kiss on her cheek. “I’m glad,” he said, taking her hand and not letting go.

They sat together the rest of the night, talking and laughing, drinking the good ale. She had never had so much fun and wished the night could never end. Alistair looked over at her and saw her yawn once and knew it was time to go. He got up and offered his hand to her to get up, she took it and they went to the bar where he handed a handful of coins to Bode then turned to the crowd and pulled Morwen in close, yelling, “The next round is on King Alistair!” The crown roared and clapped their approval as he led her out the door and into the night.

The walk back to the palace was quick for the sake of safety. Alistair never let go of Morwen’s hand as they wound through the streets and into the palace. He led her all the way to her room, stopping at the door. She turned to him, wondering what he would do next. He stood looking at her for the longest time, then took a step forward, taking her hand, “It is your decision, Wenna. No property, no titles, nothing exchanged. You know who I am.” With that he leaned in and kissed her lips lightly, resisting the urge to take her in his arms. He smiled at her, turned and walked back down the hall, leaving her to decide.

****

Morwen paced the floor in front of the window, thinking furiously. It was as he had said, he was Alain, and he was everything she wanted. He was kind, generous and compassionate, an extraordinary man in many ways, not the painted peacocks she saw in the court. She wanted him, but one thing nagged at her; he had lied to her before, would he again? The answer seemed to be no, but doubt was still there, and she could not banish it. She wanted another chance, and she would have it.

She quickly undressed and put on her leathers, strapping on her daggers only. She left a note and some money for the maids, making sure they would send her trunks back to Highever in the morning. After making sure that the door was unbolted, she went to the window, pulled on her hood, and climbed out. She lowered herself to the balcony that wrapped around the structure and walked around to the other side of the building. After gauging which window she wanted, she slowly climbed the stone wall to the window above, her muscles screaming from the exertion. 

Reaching the window, she managed to throw her leg over the sill and climb in, collapsing on the floor, panting. Slowly she rose and looked around to find a sword pointed at her. She raised her hands in a gesture of surrender.

“Who are you and who sent you?” Alistair asked, angrily.

“Alistair?” Morwen asked, lowering her hood.

He lowered his sword, “Wenna?”

“It’s me,” she replied softly.

“Maker’s breath, woman! What are doing? I could have killed you!”

“I…I wanted to talk to you and I didn’t want anyone to know I was here.”

Alistair stared at her, not knowing what to say. She was here, sneaking in the window like an assassin, but why? He walked to the side table and laid his sword down. “I don’t understand. What did you want to talk about?”

“About this…” and she went to him, wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing her lips to his. His arms encircled her waist as he took her in, moaning his surprise and pleasure. 

“Maker, Wenna! What….?” he tried to ask, but was stopped by her lips. He wanted her so much and she was here but did she want him? He pulled away, panting, “I…I want you so, Wenna, you know that. I just need to know why you’re here.”

“I want you, Alistair. Please let me stay,” she begged.

“I won’t stop you, love,” he said happily, taking her in his arms and kissing her hard. Morwen wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in, rubbing against him. He moaned with desire knowing she needed him as much as he needed her; it had been so long for both of them.

Morwen reached up and untied the laces of her jerkin, slipping it off and letting it drop to the floor. Alistair undid the ties on her tunic, slipping it off her shoulder, kissing the bare skin. She sighed with pleasure, unbuckling her daggers. He caught them as they came loose and tossed them aside, causing her to giggle. She reached down and pulled his shirt out of his breeches and off over his head, her hands slowly running over his chest, savoring the feel of his skin against her hands. 

He grabbed her hips and moved her towards the bed, claiming her mouth in his. He lifted her up, sitting her on the edge, quickly stripping off her boots and pulling at the laces of her breeches as she pulled the laces of his, running her hands around the waistband to loosen them. She was rewarded with a kiss and soon found herself divested of her tunic as Alistair lifted it over her head, tossing it aside. Morwen’s breath came hard and fast as his hands cupped her breasts, kissing them, taking them in full as she moaned and arched towards his mouth. He pulled away as his fingers slid down her sides and slipped into her waistband, loosening and pulling her breeches down over her hips and off.She kicked them off and reached for his, pulling them down and sliding them to the floor. He pulled at her small clothes, sliding them off and down, as she did his. 

Alistair reached around her and lifted her up further onto the bed, as she wrapped her legs around his waist, feeling his hardness, ready and eager. She gasped as he settled between her legs, kissing her mouth. “Wenna, I must have you…Maker! It’s been so long…please!” he pleaded. She smiled and reached her hands around to his backside, pulling at him to enter her. He thrust at her hard in his need, causing her to cry out, “Yes!” as he entered her. He called her name and began the rhythm, stroking her, feeling her tightness as she massaged him, growing harder as he continued. 

Morwen panted, crying for joy as she reached her climax again and again, finally taking him with her in a rush of sensation and emotion that was nearly more than they could bear. They collapsed in a heap, not letting go of each other as they returned to their senses and each other. He rolled her on top of him and held her, never wanting to let go. “She was the one,” he thought, “the only one.”

She slowly returned to him, nuzzling his neck as he kissed her cheeks and hair. She rolled to his side and he popped the string that tied her braid and ran his fingers through her hair, loosening it. He buried his face in it, smelling her. “I wanted to do that for so long,” he whispered, “I love your hair.” She smiled and took her hand and pulled her hair from her back to the front, allowing him to see it better. He kissed her as he threaded his hands though the strands as she sighed from the pleasure.

“I shall never cut it then,” she promised. He laughed then and held her closer, bringing her lips back to his. 

“Good,” he replied, smiling, “Come here,” turning her in his arms and entering her again. It was to be a long night for them both.

*****

Dawn was breaking when she slipped out the gates of the palace and into the streets. Morwen stayed close to the walls, then, crossing the street to the other side, she looked up at the palace above and the window, tears in her eyes. She could not doubt his sincerity now. He loved her and would have her, she knew. He would never lie to her. Doubt was still there, but not doubts for him; doubt of herself. She didn’t deserve him. She pulled her hood up and skirted the street, heading for the city gate and home.

*****

Alistair stirred and turned in the bed, reaching for her. He had lost count of how many times he’d had her and how many ways. She matched him in every way possible and he wouldn’t let her go. He opened his eyes to find her, but found nothing. “Wenna?” he called to no answer. He sat up looking to see if she was using the privy, but no one was there. Her clothes we gone and so was she, as if she had never been there. He grabbed his robe and put it on looking in the sitting room and adjoining bedroom, finding nothing. A knock at the door caused him to jump and he walked to the door and drew the bolt. 

Ser Martin was there holding a small scroll. “Message from the Lady Morwen, sire,” he said.

Alistair took the scroll and looked at the man. “Tell the Arl I want to see him today at his earliest opportunity, Martin.”

“Of course, sire,” he said and departed.

Alistair shut the door and turned, leaning against it. He broke the seal on the scroll and read:

_ Dearest Alistair, _

_ Our time together has been more wonderful than I could have ever imagined. Not every girl finds the knight of her dreams, but I can say I did. I wish I could deserve what you offer me but fear I never will. Know that leaving you is the hardest thing I have ever done and I would that I did not have to. _

_ I love you, _

_ Wenna _

Tears stained the note and soon he realized they weren’t just hers. 

*****

Morwen looked down on her charges laughing as they pushed forward to see more. “Stay back,” she warned, “It can be dangerous.”

Rory and Ser Gable were sparring at swords, entertaining the group with their prowess and strength. She was pleased the group was so interested. 

She had returned to Highever six weeks before, quietly, in the middle of the night. Fergus has not asked why she had returned and so unusually but guessed he would soon find out. Alistair had sent the document absolving her from the marriage contract, making it clear that he still desired the union but that it was to be Morwen’s choice. By her manner, he guessed the visit had been bittersweet for her so he left her alone, letting her pick up her life as she wished for a time, then suggesting she begin training the youngsters of the castle with bow and sword. “Our numbers are depleted, Wenna, we will need them someday. Make them ready, little sister.” She had consented gladly.

The combatants finished their show and bowed for their ecstatic audience, coming forward to answer questions from the eager children. They were a group of boys and girls of about eight to ten years, all wanting to be knights and soldiers for Highever. There were several elven children, most of whom she had rescued that night on the coast. They held a special place in her heart as did the man who helped her.

“Now,” she announced, “Who would like to take a turn at Ser Roland?” Hands went up all over the crowd and Rory led them off to the tilting ring for some instruction. 

Morwen walked over to the wall and picked up her bow to practice when she noticed a young elven girl of about nine was still standing, watching her. “Sylvana? Is everything all right? You should be with the others.”

The shy girl fought for words then managed to say, “I don’t want to use a sword. I want to shoot a bow, like my father did.”

Morwen smiled, thinking of her first day of combat training, she went for the bow first and never looked back. “It is important to learn to use a sword though. I did, even though I didn’t like it. There are times when it is necessary to know how.” 

“Do you still use that sword, Lady Morwen?” said a deep and familiar voice.

She turned her head to meet his gaze, her blue-green eyes meeting his blue ones. “I do still practice, yes,” she replied.

Alistair walked to her, his eyes never leaving hers. “So I have heard.” He looked down on the young elf and knelt to face her, “My lady is the best bowman I have ever seen,” he said. “But she is right that even a bowman needs to know how to use a sword just as a swordsman should know how to use a bow.”

“Really, ser?” Sylvana asked.

“Really, little one,” he replied, smiling.

Sylvana was enthralled, “Then I shall be the best swordsman I can be as well as the best bowman,” she announced and with a curtsy was off to join the others.

He rose and turned to face her, gauging her mood. She was surprised, he knew and not a little curious.

“That was kind of you, your majesty,” she said.

“Don’t,” he told her. 

“It is your title,” she reminded him.

“You left.”

“Yes,” she said softly, “I left a note.”

“I didn’t want your bloody note, Wenna, I wanted you,” he exclaimed.

She hung her head in shame and sadness. She had hurt him; she knew that and yet still wanted him badly. But the nagging thoughts kept coming back. “I never meant to hurt you. I just….”

“You just what, Wenna? Wanted me to understand why the woman I love and want to marry just up and leaves me with nothing but a note? Or that you really don’t care and just wanted to let me down easy?”

“I didn’t want that! You can’t marry me, Alistair. I’m not suitable. You’ll be unhappy,” she cried.

Alistair had had enough and grabbed her upper arms, holding her in place, “I will decide whether I am happy or whether you are suitable, do you understand? Marry me, Wenna; I will have no one else.”

“I do want to, so badly!” she admitted, tears falling.

“Do it, Wenna. You can be whatever you want and I’ll support you. I cannot live without you. I love you!” he told her

“Can I still shoot my bow?” she asked. 

“Every day and twice on Sundays, love,” he answered, brushing the tears from her cheeks and holding them in his hands. He bent down and kissed her and she gave in, wrapping her arms around him and kissing him back. He pulled away slowly, smiling at her, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring of shining veridium with the head of a stag, “I love you, Wenna. Marry me?”

“Yes,” she said as he slipped the ring on her finger, “I love you too.”

*****

One year later, Alistair, King of Ferelden, paced the floor outside his bedchamber. He needed a drink but had promised her he wouldn’t have one until after. Teyrn Fergus leaned against the wall, smiling and laughing at his discomfort. Alistair looked at his brother-in-law with less than amusement in his expression. “Is it supposed to take this long? I thought it would finish quickly.”

Fergus laughed again, “As long as it takes, sire. I waited two days.”

“Two days! Maker’s breath!” he cried, “I’ll never make it!” Fergus laughed harder.

Both men turned as the door to the bedchamber opened and a young servant bid them enter. They quietly did, not sure if they should. Wynne came forward and kissed Alistair on the cheek, hugging him first. “She is waiting for you.”

Morwen lay on the bed, pale from exertion, her dark hair damp from the perspiration of her labors. Alistair came forward slowly, stopping to look down at the bundle she held. “I thought we might name him Duncan,” she said, smiling at him.

“A boy?” he asked excited, leaning forward to see him. “Duncan would have liked that.” She held the bundle out to him and he took it, looking down on his son. “You are well?” he asked her.

“Never better,” she said. “I love you.”

“Not as much as I love you now,” he said with tears in his eyes. “And my son,” he added as the Chantry bells began to ring to announce the birth of a prince.


End file.
